Her characters are lively and their expressions telling. through both her narrative choices and the manner of her execution. The joy Knisley evidently takes in the act of tasting is translated almost perfectly 1 1 I only say almost to leave her room for improvement-even though I can’t imagine in which direction she could improve. Her work is bright, colourful, humourous, and (best of all) exuberant. None of my description of this, however, conveys the pleasure and excitement Knisley’s pages draw forth. She intersperses narrative delights with recipes for favourite foods and a helpful fact sheet explaining the complicated world of cheeses. Knisley’s memoir is composed of twelve short chapters that roughly trace the chronology of her life, and each pericope develops around the various foods she associates with those stories. But that hardly matters as I’m pretty well-convinced that I had more fun reading Relish. There are better, thicker, more challenging works available and as far as importance goes, the 173-page paperback doesn’t hold a candle to, say, Building Stories or Duncan the Wonder Dog. I haven’t been this exuberant about a reading experience in a while.
Relish, Knisley’s personal-history-via-gustatory-memory, is simply wonderful. With all that in mind, think about how incredible Lucy Knisley’s book must be to make me want to a) prepare things like a plateful of mushrooms, a gaggle of sushi rolls, or a good pesto, and then b) try actually eating the product of those recipes. I mostly stick to safe things these days, out of habit and out of fear. Mussels, oysters, and sushi are a rocky row to hoe-fourteen years ago when I interviewed for my current job, I was taken to sushi, gave it a chance, and nearly drenched my prospective employer in regurgitation. I mean, I absolutely adore steamed artichoke, but broccoli, cabbage, cucumbers, tomatoes (not a vegetable, I know), and non-Idaho-potato roots twist my expression into something sinister. I’m fine with a small battery of stand-bys (meats, potatoes, dairy, most fruits), but vegetables and items with more exotic textures remain holy and set apart for sacrifice to other eaters.
My range of acceptable tastes and textures is lean and withered. Really everything went pretty swimmingly save for the fact that I was born with a very narrow palette.
0 kommentar(er)
